


The Happiness of Perverts

by Dira Sudis (dsudis)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Blood, Bodily Fluids, Caning, Comeplay, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Masochism, Painplay, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sadism, Spanking, Sub Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:10:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4245558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the Bucky no one saw but Steve. Bucky wasn't just mischievous or occasionally reckless. Bucky could be cruel when he was alone with Steve; he could glory in it.</p><p>This Bucky was only Steve's, and Steve all by himself loved this secret, wicked Bucky more than any thousand people could ever love That Nice Bucky Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Happiness of Perverts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnaOfMirkwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaOfMirkwood/gifts).



> Thanks to people who currently remain nameless for all their help with this! 
> 
> Anna, I hope this is what you were hoping for! Happy Steve's birthday! :D

Steve sat in the middle of the bustling automat, alone at his table for two. His hands, resting on the table on either side of the mug he wasn't drinking from, were closed into fists so tight his knuckles ached.

There wasn't any other reason for his knuckles to ache; he hadn't gotten into any fights today. Not with that idiot at the WPA office and not with any of the three jerks who'd interrupted his sign-painting work. None of them had actually thrown a punch, and Steve wasn't in the habit of hitting first.

But all those fights that hadn't quite happened were boiling under his skin. He couldn't unclench his jaw enough to drink his coffee, let alone to make a start on the ham and cheese sandwich sitting beside it. The anger just burned away inside him, searching for an outlet, knowing--

Not knowing. It was never quite a thing he could know, not for sure.

He couldn't help _hoping_ , though, that Bucky would turn up soon. If he did, it was a good bet he would be in the mood to play one of their games tonight. It had been more than a week since they'd had time for anything more involved than a quick fuck. Steve would probably have been on edge, hoping for it, even if today had been a perfectly good day.

But it hadn't, and now he _needed_ it. He needed it, but God fucking knew if Bucky would actually get away to join him, or when, or--

Bucky dropped into the seat across from him, startling Steve into looking up. He watched Bucky take him in, point by point: meeting his eyes, then checking his hands, then noting the untouched coffee and sandwich.

"You know you eat with your mouth, right?" Bucky smiled smoothly, leaning back in his chair like he didn't have a care in the world. No one who wasn't looking him right in the eye would see the hardness there. "Staring at it doesn't work."

Steve shrugged woodenly, the anger in his gut twisting inward. He should've made himself eat before Bucky got here. How long had he been sitting here wasting time? 

"I know," Steve said, his voice coming out harassed, like Bucky was the one who'd grabbed his ladder to give it a shake, like Bucky was the one who'd told him to go back and do that poster over, like--

"Hey," Bucky said, jerking Steve's attention back to him. Bucky sat up straighter, letting go of the easy pose. 

"Get on with it, then," Bucky said firmly. "Don't let me see you wasting good food."

For a second Steve clenched his fists tighter, the reflex of anger still burning through him, but he knew what Bucky really meant. _I know you, and I know you haven't eaten since breakfast._ And, if Steve was lucky--and from the look in Bucky's eyes, he was pretty sure he was-- _You'll need a square meal in you to get through what I'm going to do to you tonight._

"Here, I'll help," Bucky said, reaching between Steve's hands to pick up the coffee. 

For a split second after he lifted it from the table Bucky held it exactly between them. All of Steve's anger, all of his resistance, got blown sky-high by the thought of Bucky raising the mug to his lips, tilting it for him to drink. Right here in front of everyone, feeding him his coffee one sip at a time, rationing it out according to what Bucky thought he should have.

Steve's cheeks went hot. Bucky's eyes darkened--not a chance he didn't know what Steve was thinking. Not a chance he hadn't done it on purpose. 

Bucky brought the mug to his own lips and took a sip.

He made a face. "You let it get cold, Stevie. I'll get another. You--" Bucky gave the sandwich a significant look and stood.

Steve kept still for a moment, watching Bucky walk away. He was dressed about like Steve was, but Bucky's good clothes were the ones he'd worn at work all day, not the ones he'd changed into for dinner at the automat after scrubbing off sweat and paint. Bucky was smiling at the people he passed, exchanging words with half of them as he headed for the coffee station. That Nice Bucky Barnes, Steve could just about see people thinking.

And then Bucky looked back and caught Steve's eye, raising an eyebrow. Steve dropped his gaze and picked up his sandwich.

He'd managed two bites by the time Bucky came back, with the coffee so full of cream and sugar that it looked like hot chocolate. Steve didn't have any trouble picking it up to wash a bite of sandwich down with a hot, sweet gulp.

Bucky sat across the table, watching him eat. He didn't say anything, just watched, and Steve ate methodically, keeping his mouth full, so they were silent together. But Steve didn't need to say a word, and he didn't need Bucky to say one either. It was all there in the way Bucky's eyes tracked every movement he made.

It was there in the way Steve was doing what he was told. The heat that rose in him as he sat there, quiet with Bucky in the middle of the noisy automat, was nothing like anger. It was everything like hunger. Bucky wasn't smiling at all now.

Steve made it through three-quarters of the sandwich before he had to stop and think about whether he wanted more. Bucky reached out while he was taking a cautious sip of coffee, picked up what was left of the sandwich and took two big bites.

Bucky wasn't hungry, Steve knew perfectly well. Bucky had just come from his ma's table, where the dutiful son and affectionate brother got three squares a day served up to him as a matter of course.

When Bucky put the rest of the sandwich down on Steve's plate, that was something else Bucky didn't have to say. _Finish it._

Steve picked up what was left of his sandwich and crammed it down in a couple of bites, and his stomach was too busy with its eager fluttering to protest. He drank off the last of the coffee and set it down, looking to Bucky for the next move.

Bucky eyed him up and down and said, "Dessert?"

Steve waved off the suggestion but didn't actually say no. He could eat a slice of pie if Bucky wanted him to. Bucky would probably eat half of it for him anyway.

Bucky reached over and picked up the fork from beside Steve's plate. Steve had no idea why he'd picked up a fork and knife when he only bought a sandwich, but there they were. Ready to be used, if Bucky dragged this out by sending Steve to get more food.

Bucky twirled the fork absently, seeming lost in thought about whether Steve should have dessert. Bucky brought the fork over to his left hand. He tapped it against the base of his thumb a couple of times, then dragged the tines across his palm, pressing hard enough to indent the skin.

Steve pressed both of his hands flat to the table as an entirely new heat rushed through him. Bucky's eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and intent, and Steve licked his lips.

"No," Steve said as firmly as he could. "No, that was enough."

"Good," Bucky said, and as casually as if he were putting his own pen away, he slipped the fork into his pocket.

Steve opened his mouth to object, and Bucky raised his eyebrows, cool and calm. Steve gave a tiny shake of his head. He wouldn't argue. He could bring the fork back later, anyway. After... after.

"Come on, then." Bucky stood, and Steve followed him.

"How're your folks?" Steve asked politely as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Fine, fine," Bucky said, perfectly playing his role again out here in public. Two blocks to the rooming house, three flights up to Steve's room. Bucky started talking about Becca and the help she'd needed with her bookkeeping course the last couple of nights. Steve nodded and accepted the explanation without either of them having to say it was an explanation for anything.

Steve let his attention run ahead of them. Eight days since the last time they'd played, and it was a foregone conclusion now that they were going to play something tonight, so the question was what? Steve hoped Bucky wasn't going to go off on another one of his flights of fancy, making up some elaborate game where Steve was a midshipman and Bucky was a wicked pirate, or Steve was an explorer and Bucky was a wicked cannibal, or Steve was a _space_ explorer and Bucky was a wicked _space alien_...

Steve's cheeks got hot again thinking about that one. Bucky had pretended to be perplexed and fascinated by earthling tears, touching and tasting them, asking him to explain why he was crying when he was almost past the ability to speak, and all the time...

"You getting sick, Stevie?" Bucky said when they stopped on the corner across the street from Steve's block. "You look flushed."

Steve glanced up and met the dark look that belied the gentle words. Steve shivered a little. He didn't think Bucky was going to have the patience for playacting tonight either.

"Nah," Steve said. "I'm fine."

"Maybe I better stay over tonight," Bucky said as they started walking. "Look out for you."

"Yeah, maybe." It was a couple of years since they'd even bothered with pretexts for why Bucky stayed over at his place. He'd said once that he didn't tell his folks anything, and they didn't ask. As for Steve's neighbors--well, they were all too busy with their own business to mind anybody else's. Blind eyes and deaf ears in every room.

Not much danger, though, of Steve ever having to pretend to be That Nice Steve Rogers. 

Bucky stayed silent as they walked up to Steve's room, and when they got there Steve saw that Bucky had been there before came to the automat: he'd left a wrapped parcel on the table in the corner. Steve didn't have time to wonder what it was before Bucky was shoving him up against the door.

Bucky hauled him up onto his tiptoes and pinned him in place with the hard weight of his body, kissing Steve rough and fast, as much teeth as tongue. Steve melted under it, opening his mouth for the assault and letting Bucky's hands take his weight. He moaned as Bucky's tongue fucked his mouth; it was the barest promise of what was coming.

"God, look at you just giving in," Bucky growled, grinding his hips against Steve's. Steve was already half-hard, and Bucky was harder, bigger, stronger. "You need it bad tonight, don't you, baby?"

"Yeah," Steve whispered. "Yeah, I need it."

"You got any marks left on you at all?" Bucky demanded, rubbing his palms up and down Steve's arms. "You let anybody else leave a mark on you while I been busy?"

Steve shook his head. Not one punching fight. Not one. "Just--just the last of that bruise on my hip, that's all I got."

"Show me," Bucky demanded. "Show me. So help me God, Stevie, if you been letting anybody else lay a finger on you--"

"Nobody, I didn't, I swear," Steve insisted.

His head was already getting light and his balls heavy from the growl of possession in Bucky's voice. Anybody else, he'd knock them into next week for thinking they could tell him when not to get beaten up, but he needed this tonight. This was his reward for not picking fights. This was what he really wanted. Eight long days, he'd traded nothing but words with every asshole who crossed his path, and now Bucky was going to make every minute worth it.

"Show me." Bucky took a step back, and Steve was tearing off his clothes right there, still leaning against the door as he stripped.

Bucky watched with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but Steve could see the brightness of his gaze as he watched Steve hurry out of every stitch of clothes. He left everything right there, piled on top of his shoes, and took a step forward, spreading his arms to show his unmarked body. Bucky backed up so he was right at the end of Steve's bed, and he gestured for Steve to come forward.

Steve stood squarely in the middle of the little bit of open space his room afforded, bared for Bucky's scrutiny. Bucky stayed where he was long enough for Steve to really feel how exposed he was, the first excitement fading. Steve struggled not to close his hands into fists. Sweat broke out under his arms, and he took slow, deliberate breaths. 

Bucky finally stepped up. He tapped his foot against the inside of Steve's ankle, managing to hit exactly on the bone with the sole of his shoe. The taste of actual pain steadied him; he felt his shoulders relax as he shifted his feet. Spreading his legs opened him up, and it made him shorter, too. Bucky towered over him now. Steve shook a little with how badly he wanted this, his cock getting harder before Bucky even touched him.

When Bucky did touch him, it was to tilt his chin up with two fingers. His eyes scanned over Steve's face without ever meeting his gaze, frowning a little as he searched for any evidence of Steve getting into trouble with anyone but Bucky.

Steve licked his lips, resisting the urge to bite down. 

"Open," Bucky said, tugging down on Steve's lower lip with his thumb.

Steve opened his mouth obediently, and Bucky's frown deepened as he shoved his fingers between Steve's teeth. He stroked over the inside of Steve's cheeks, tugging his lips wide open to look everywhere for evidence that Steve had had a bloody mouth anytime recently. He pressed his fingers over Steve's teeth, checking whether any were loosened. 

"Who told you to close your eyes?"

Steve opened them wide. He hadn't even realized he'd closed them; he was so lost in Bucky's fingers poking around in his mouth. He felt almost drunk already on Bucky's casual, confident ownership of him. 

"Hm," Bucky said at last, grudgingly satisfied. "Hands above your head."

Steve obeyed immediately, grateful for the change of position, though he knew his hands would go numb pretty quickly. Bucky knew that too, of course. He wouldn't leave him like this for long. 

Bucky dragged his right hand up Steve's side, right into his armpit, getting it wet with sweat. He sniffed the wetness on the side of his hand and then held his hand to Steve's mouth.

"Clean that up."

Steve's eyelids fluttered involuntarily at the sharp stink of his own sweat, the nastiness of it, but he didn't quite let his eyes close. He kept his gaze on Bucky's face as he licked the sweat away with quick swipes of his tongue.

Bucky didn't look back at him--not at his eyes, anyway. He was looking up and down the length of Steve's arms, and when Steve had licked up enough sweat he flicked his hand in a light smack against Steve's mouth.

Steve made a little helplessly grateful sound, and Bucky said, "Plenty more where that came from, Stevie."

He stepped to the side and ran both his hands up Steve's left arm, prodding everywhere from shoulder to wrist, but Steve already knew he wouldn't find a single bruise or scrape. He stepped fully behind Steve--Steve fixed his gaze on the wall and still didn't close his eyes, because Bucky always knew when he did--and checked his right arm the same way. 

Then Bucky closed his hands hard on Steve's wrists and twisted them down behind his back, crossing at his shoulder blades. Steve arched his back against the sudden pressure, and Bucky pinned his hands to his back with one hand and used the other to reach up and give a single hard tug on his hair. Steve let out a grunt at that bright little shock of pain, but he kept still. 

Bucky pulled his head back by his hair, tilting his chin all the way up until his throat was bared and he was looking straight up into Bucky's eyes. 

He was completely at Bucky's mercy, with his arms pinned and his legs spread wide. He was completely hard already and Bucky had hardly hurt him yet, never mind touching him. It was enough just to know that he belonged to Bucky, that Bucky would do whatever he wanted with Steve--and he could, because Steve wanted what Bucky wanted, and he knew Bucky would give him what he needed. 

Bucky's mouth hit his in a rough upside-down kiss. Steve kept his mouth open under it and let Bucky use his mouth, his tongue shoving deep, his teeth scraping Steve's lips. Even when he couldn't breathe Steve knew to trust Bucky, and didn't struggle against his grip.

Bucky let him up at just the second he really needed to gasp for air. He let go of Steve's hair and shifted his hand back down to Steve's hands, scrutinizing every joint for any signs of a fight while Steve stared at the ceiling and breathed in great heaves, filling his lungs again. 

"Hands down," Bucky said, and he slid both of his arms under Steve's, putting one hand flat on his belly, the other on his chest. "Don't breathe."

Steve choked off another gasping inhalation and waited, trembling under Bucky's hands. 

"Out. Slow."

Steve obeyed, blowing his breath out slowly until Bucky said, "Stop," and then "In."

It took a couple of minutes, but Bucky got him settled down again, not in danger of hyperventilating like he had been.

As soon as his breath found its own right rhythm, Bucky took his hands off Steve and gave him a little shove in the center of his back. 

"Bend over for me."

Steve obeyed, dropped to rest his palms on the floor and keeping his legs straight and spread wide. That presented his ass to Bucky's scrutiny, and through his legs he watched as Bucky crouched down behind him, giving his hole a careful look. He pressed against it with his fingers, prodding.

Sometimes he forced a finger in dry like this. Steve's cock throbbed at the thought of it, greedy for Bucky inside him, for the pain of being opened without preparation like that. 

"Nice and clean," Bucky said after a moment. "Doesn't look like anybody's been fucking you since I've been here."

"Nobody," Steve promised. "Just you."

"Mm," Bucky said, giving a last little push against the tight ring with his knuckles. He closed his hand on Steve's balls next, tugging roughly at them and making Steve gasp, but also backing off his erection a little. 

"And what about this?" Bucky said, grabbing the base of Steve's dick and squeezing hard. 

Steve keened, shaking his head.

Bucky slapped his face--not too hard, but enough to sting--with the hand that wasn't keeping up a brutal grip on his cock. 

"You telling me not to do that? You saying this dick doesn't belong to me to grab however I want?"

Bucky knew he wasn't. The rule was that Steve had to actually say _Bucky, no_ or _Bucky, stop_ when he needed Bucky to stop. He almost never did, though. 

"Just saying," Steve managed. The blood was rushing to his head, pounding almost as hard in his temples as his dick. "Nobody but you. Nobody."

"No?" Bucky gave Steve's cock a stroke, too hard and tight for anything but pain, making Steve whimper and want. "Nobody? What about you? Bet you've had your hands all over yourself."

Sometimes they played that game--sometimes Bucky would tell him he wasn't allowed to come between times they got together like this. Lately he'd been telling Steve not to fight instead.

"Yeah," Steve admitted, his voice coming out high and tense from the pain and the position even though he was sure it was the right answer. "Yeah, plenty of times."

"How many times?" Bucky demanded, bringing his hand back to the base of Steve's cock, his grip still punishing. "How many times did you get yourself off thinking about when I'd be here to give you what you really need?"

Steve made a helpless noise in the back of his throat, trying to think backward to the days and days of waiting. It was like trying to remember winter's cold on a blazing summer day. He had to try, though, because Bucky somehow always knew if he didn't do his best to tell the truth. 

"Ten," he said finally, hoping desperately that it was right. Bucky's grip on his cock tightened, and Steve yelped and then managed, "Ten, ten plus one time in--in my sleep, I was dreaming of you and I woke up after I, after--"

"Huh," Bucky said, abruptly letting go. Steve's cock throbbed almost more painfully with the rush of blood and the absence of Bucky's touch. 

"Can't go more than a week without me knocking you around before you're having wet dreams like a kid, huh?"

That had been the second night, actually, but Steve just whimpered and nodded.

"Let's give you something to dream about then," Bucky said decidedly. "On your knees, Stevie."

Steve folded down into the familiar position, perfectly upright from knees to shoulders, his hands at his sides. His cock stood out stiffly, and he watched with wide, eager eyes as Bucky came around to stand in front of him. Bucky spread his feet exactly far enough apart to put his crotch level with Steve's mouth. Steve couldn't tear his eyes from the bulge of Bucky's cock inside his pants.

Bucky rubbed himself through his clothes, running the heel of his hand over the thick ridge of his cock. Steve let his mouth fall open. He looked up at Bucky, pleading silently. Bucky's eyes were dark and wicked now, a flush of eagerness showing on his cheeks.

This was the Bucky no one saw but Steve. Bucky wasn't just mischievous or occasionally reckless. Bucky could be cruel when he was alone with Steve; he could glory in it.

This Bucky was only Steve's, and Steve all by himself loved this secret, wicked Bucky more than any thousand people could ever love That Nice Bucky Barnes.

"Come here." Bucky's hand came off his cock to grab Steve's chin and put him where he wanted him. 

He pressed Steve's face into the front of Bucky's pants, rubbing his cock against him through the thin barrier of his clothes. Steve nuzzled eagerly into Bucky's crotch, breathing in the smell of sex and letting himself be used the way Bucky wanted him--for friction, for anything at all. 

"Back."

Steve pulled away, already knowing what would come next. Bucky unzipped without even unfastening his belt, bringing his cock out through the slit in his boxers and the fly of his pants. It was thick, darker than Bucky's hand wrapped around it and red at the head. 

"Open," Bucky said, and Steve knew that he wanted it bad if he didn't have the patience to order Steve to lick and kiss his cock before getting down to it. Steve tilted his chin to just the right angle and opened his mouth wide.

Bucky fed his cock into Steve's mouth slowly the first time, easing it down over his tongue to the back of his mouth. He stayed there long enough for Steve to draw in a deep, full breath through his nose, and then he was shoving deeper, blocking Steve's throat with the thick head of his cock.

Steve let his eyes closed--this was one of the times he was always allowed--and did nothing but feel the thick, battering heat of Bucky's cock in his mouth. For a long still moment Bucky stayed sunk deep into him, right into his throat. Steve kept perfectly still, not trying to breathe or swallow, not daring to mess up the angle. He knew exactly how to take Bucky's cock, and Bucky knew exactly how to give it to him.

Just when Steve's throat was starting to spasm and clutch at Bucky's cock even without him trying to breathe, Bucky pulled out. Steve snatched a breath as he opened his eyes to watch Bucky's cock reappear from between his lips, shining wet with his spit. Then Bucky slammed it back in hard, forcing a little strangled cry from Steve before his breath was cut off completely.

He closed his eyes as Bucky repeated the process. Bucky's hands closed tight in his hair to hold him steady while Bucky fucked his mouth, fast and brutally hard. He'd pull out when Steve choked, and Steve opened his watering eyes to see the strings of spit connecting his wide-open mouth to Bucky's dick. His whole face was tingling, and his cock was aching again, dripping out its own wetness.

He was just starting to think that Bucky might decide to come right down his throat and be done with it when Bucky yanked him back by the hair and let go, sending him sprawling on his ass.

"You're not in a hurry, are you, babydoll?" Bucky asked, with a wide mad-dog grin. 

Steve grinned back and shook his head, flushing all over at the knowledge that they were just getting started. This was going to _hurt_ , hard and thorough and so, so good. His throat was already sore, and he felt woozy from having his air cut off, but this was just the beginning.

"Come here," Bucky said, and Steve knelt up again. He didn't bother to open his mouth this time; he knew Bucky didn't want to come yet. 

Bucky brought his spit-dripping cock to Steve's face, wiping off the wetness on Steve's cheeks and forehead, getting him filthy with the slime of his own cocksucking. Finally Bucky gave his cock a long stripping stroke, gathering up the last of the wetness. He wiped it off on Steve's hair before he tucked his cock, still furiously hard, back into his pants. Steve's own cock ached in sympathy, his balls high and tense.

Bucky backed away from him, going over to the little table by the window. Steve's eye darted again to the wrapped package there, but he quickly returned his attention to Bucky as he pulled the chair away from the table and sat down. 

He patted his thigh. "Crawl, baby."

Steve's wet face went hot and his dick pulsed. 

He dropped onto his hands and knees to cross the short distance to where Bucky was sitting, and without being told more he laid himself over Bucky's knees, head down and ass up. His knees didn't quite touch the floor and his cock was tucked against the outside of Bucky's thigh, which meant he wasn't allowed to come while he got spanked--but his weight was on his belly and chest, so Bucky wouldn't keep him here for too long anyway. 

Bucky's hand cracked down on his ass almost before he was settled, the first taste of bright, pure pain he'd gotten yet. He gasped and pushed back into it and Bucky hit him again and again, a quick flurry of blows just to warm him up. 

Steve panted, flexing to feel the burn of it after Bucky finished that first round. Bucky's fingers tapped against his ass, striking brighter sparks of pain in the warm all-over ache.

"How's that feel, babydoll?" Bucky asked. "That hurt?"

"Warm," Steve said. "Kind of a soft red."

"Pink," Bucky declared, rubbing his hand hard over Steve's ass. "Like some girl's gotten her rouge all over your cheeks."

He dug in his grip, raking his short fingernails over hot skin to add a sharper, harder sting, and Steve's breath hitched. He squirmed, rubbing the head of his dick against Bucky's thigh. 

"Sharper?"

Steve nodded. "It's good, it's--"

Bucky's hand cracked down again, harder, right where he'd scratched. Steve's breath left him in a startled cry. He worked over the round of Steve's ass steadily, dropping the occasional little slap lower, right at the bottom of his ass or the tops of his thighs. 

He stopped twice more, making Steve tell him how much it hurt, scratching over the marks he'd left. Steve writhed under him, the pain building into something that could carry him away.

"Spread," Bucky demanded, and Steve obeyed, spreading his legs so that he had the inside of one knee hooked on Bucky's shin, the other on the back leg of the chair. Steve was breathing hard, effortfully, where he rested over Bucky's thighs, but the dull ache of his ribs was nothing to the rising burn of his ass, and what Bucky was going to do next. 

Bucky spat twice, and Steve twitched at the feeling of it hitting the crack of his ass. Bucky's fingers rubbed through the wetness, bringing it to his hole and smearing it around, and Steve whimpered. The pleasure of that wet, teasing touch stood out starkly in the middle of all the pain. He knew that Bucky was only getting him ready, only softening him up--

Steve let out a short scream at the sharp bolt of pain as Bucky's wet fingers slapped down directly on his wet hole. He repeated the blow immediately, and again, while Steve diminished his cries down to a high whine, holding perfectly still except for a helpless trembling.

"That red enough for you, sweetheart?" Bucky asked, rubbing his fingers hard against Steve's hole, keeping the pain from fading too fast. 

Steve whined and nodded, and Bucky's other hand caught his hair, pulling his head up from where he'd been pressing his cheek against Bucky's leg. "Answer me, Stevie."

"Yellow," Steve managed. "Bright, hurts so--so sharp, Bucky, please."

Bucky gave him another smack right on his hole, whipping down with two fingers while he was still holding on to Steve's hair with his other hand. Steve let out another little wail, squeezing his eyes shut but still knowing that Bucky would see the pain, and how much he loved it, on his face.

"That's right, baby," Bucky growled. "Hurt for me, let me see--" 

Now he did it, forcing a wet finger into Steve's hole, tensed up from hurting so that just Bucky's finger inside him felt huge. Bucky fucked him roughly with that finger, crooking it so it pulled at his rim on the way out, sending new bolts of pain through Steve's body until Bucky abruptly yanked his finger out and brought it down one more time on his opened hole. Steve yelled, legs jerking and drawing in instinctively, and the sound tailed off into a whimper as his eyes filled with tears. It hurt, and there was nothing but the hurting and Bucky in the world. 

Bucky shoved Steve's head back down and changed his grip on Steve's hair to the back of his neck. 

"Say _ow_ ," Bucky ordered. 

That was good. That was easier than counting. He lost track sometimes when Bucky tried to make him count. 

"Ow," Steve gasped as Bucky's hand came down right above his balls, on the spot where the inside of his thigh became the inside of his ass cheek. "Ow--ow-- _ow_ \--" 

The blows kept raining down, all over his spread open ass, and every one that landed anywhere but where it would hurt the most just meant he was still waiting for the real blow to fall. 

" _Ow_ ," tore out of Steve's throat as an unmistakable sob when Bucky's fingers landed on his balls. It took a beat for Steve to realize that it hadn't really hurt--it was just a tap of Bucky's fingers where Steve was sensitive, tensed up with anticipation and lust.

Bucky still didn't hit, just played his fingers over Steve's sack, tracing his balls under the skin, riffling through the sparse wiry hair. Any second he might hit, squeeze, twist. Steve was moaning continuously, waiting for it, and the longer Bucky waited the more Steve could feel the pain of his spanking so far settling into his skin, the first sting of it spreading out into throbbing, bruised heat.

"Please," he managed. "Bucky, please, do it."

"You worried I'm gonna stop before I hurt you enough, babydoll?" 

Bucky's hand moved fast, grabbing Steve's cock in a tight hold and pulling it down between his legs where Bucky could see it. 

Steve keened, his hips flexing helplessly. Bucky didn't do a thing to stop him, didn't pin him down or hit him to remind him to be still. He let Steve writhe, pinned at his cock and the back of his neck by Bucky's hands.

"You worried, baby?" Bucky repeated, tightening his grip on the back of Steve's neck. 

Steve understood what Bucky was asking him all at once. A second later he made himself go limp, not resisting the pain or pleasure. He didn't want to resist Bucky. He lay panting across Bucky's knees, letting the grip of Bucky's hand on his cock send mixed up throbs of aching pleasure and delicious pain through his body. 

"I'm not worried," Steve said. His voice was still coming out too clear and calm, but that wouldn't last. Soon he'd be past even having to remember not to worry. 

"Sure you aren't," Bucky murmured, and he let go of Steve's cock and hit him one more time, bringing down his whole hand so that he hit Steve's hole and his balls all at once. 

The pain was white-hot, washing him right out of his mind; he had no idea what kind of noise he made when it happened. It was a few breaths later when he was aware enough again to know that he was letting out a high cry on every breath, and Bucky's fingers were pushing into him again.

It hurt just right, a beautiful hot pulsing throb from his hole. The friction of Bucky's fingers almost scraped his sensitive skin as the tensed muscle was forced apart. 

"Ow," Steve breathed, even that one syllable shaking as Bucky's fingers screwed into him. "Ow, ow, ow--"

"Now you're getting it, baby," Bucky said. "Wish I'd set up some mirrors so you could see this--your hole's already all pink and puffy from getting hit, and your sweet little ass is turning red from getting spanked, and my fingers look so big going into you, but your hole is just eating them right up. This is just what you needed, wasn't it, sweetheart? Just needed me to hurt you enough so you could lie down and take it."

Steve let out a little whine, but it _was_ just what he needed. Bucky always gave him what he needed. 

"What would you even do if you didn't have me, babydoll? You'd have to go out and whore yourself, beg bad men to beat you before they fucked you--"

Steve sobbed a little at that and shook his head. No one but Bucky. He would never let anyone but Bucky hurt him like this. He knew he couldn't bear it from anyone else, couldn't help fighting if anyone else so much as thought of doing this to him. And yet he needed it so badly, maybe he would, maybe--

"I know you," Bucky said sternly. "If I left you alone you wouldn't last a week--look how you were today, huh? Eight days and you were dying for it. Maybe you'd get all proud--" Bucky pulled his fingers out and spit loudly right on Steve's aching hole before he pushed in with a third folded alongside. A sharp strike of pain shot through Steve as he was stretched further open.

"Maybe you'd hold out for two weeks, maybe three," Bucky said meditatively. "By then you'd be like a little cat in heat. You'd be picking fights, just begging someone to pound you to the ground and fuck you once you were all bloodied up. Wouldn't you, baby? You'd do anything to get a dick in your sore little hole, once you were hurt enough."

"Just you," Steve insisted. He was starting to sound drunk even to his own ears, and Bucky's fingers kept moving in him relentlessly. Right now he couldn't imagine how he could ever live without this. "Just you, Bucky, nobody else. Never."

"But you'll beg me, baby, won't you?" Bucky said, yanking his fingers out abruptly. "Will you beg me to fuck your hole when you're hurting?"

Steve was already nodding wildly, upside down. "Please, Bucky, please, I need you, I need you to fuck me, hurt me, please, I'll do anything, I--"

Bucky hooked two fingers into his hole and pulled it apart, opening him up until Steve was trembling and letting out high-pitched wordless sounds. The sound of Bucky spitting and the soft wet drip of saliva into him made him flush hotter again, his cock throbbing desperately. 

"Need you," Steve managed. "Please, please, Bucky, anything, I need, I need you--"

He grabbed blindly, needing something to anchor him other than Bucky's two fingers holding him open. One hand closed on Bucky's ankle, the other on the seat of the chair, his elbow bumping against Bucky's side.

Bucky stood up, dumping him onto the floor, and Steve let go and wailed at the same time--from the pain of smacking down on his abused ass, but more, from being pushed away again. He needed it, needed Bucky, so desperately.

He scrambled up onto his knees at Bucky's feet, folding his hands together pleadingly. He struggled for words through the haze of pain and need and frustration.

Bucky was already unbuckling his belt. Steve's eyes locked on his hands, the neat fingernails, the faint ink-stain shading the writing callus on his ring finger. Bucky's fingers were damp where they'd been inside Steve.

He pulled his belt free with a long soft whisper of leather against cloth, and Steve swayed with dizzy desperation. Without his hands in the way Steve could see where Bucky's cock was straining against his pants. 

"Please, please, Bucky--"

Bucky doubled the length of leather in his hand. "What am I gonna do with this, huh, Stevie? What am I donna do with _you_?"

"Anything," Steve breathed. "Anything, please, please, whatever you want, I need it."

Bucky chuckled darkly. Steve didn't know what he'd said that was funny and couldn't drag his thoughts into line to figure it out. He just looked up at Bucky. 

"It's true, though, isn't it," Bucky said. 

He looped the belt around Steve's throat, using the stiff edge of it to tilt Steve's chin up higher. Steve didn't resist. He didn't want to look anywhere but at Bucky.

"Whatever I want, that's what you need," Bucky said. "You don't even know what you need, but it doesn't matter as long as I give it to you good and hard."

"Only you," Steve insisted. He was sure about that part. "Please, Bucky. Please."

Bucky took the belt away, wrapping it around his hand, and Steve bit his lip and tried not to whine. 

"Face on the floor, babydoll. We'll give you a little taste of this first."

Steve bent over immediately, eagerly spreading his knees to expose his aching and empty and needy hole. Bucky didn't make him wait; the end of the belt smacked against the cheek of his ass almost before he had his arms and his face down on the floor. Steve let out a short cry, fitting it right in the space between one impact and the next. He knew Bucky's rhythm as well as Bucky knew his. 

It really was just a taste. Bucky was aiming carefully, giving him the flat end of the belt without snapping it like a whip. It lit up the fresh bruises on his ass from the spanking, washing him with pain again, a steady seething brightness that pushed him down under the surface. 

There was just the pain and Bucky. He didn't have to beg for anything now. This was all he needed.

This time when Bucky stopped he moved closer, kneeling down between Steve's spread legs. He grabbed Steve's hips to pull his bare, bruised ass back against Bucky's crotch. 

Steve sobbed helplessly as Bucky ground against him, every bruise and welt singing. He could feel the press of Bucky's cock against his ass, but still hidden away behind layers of clothes, still not fucking him like he needed.

Bucky leaned all the way over him, his shirtfront pressing against Steve's back, and he said almost gently, "Hands together, baby."

Steve obeyed, crossing his wrists above his head. Bucky leaned into him more heavily as he wrapped his belt around Steve's wrists, binding them tight. Steve tugged against the leather when Bucky was finished, and his whole body sagged when the belt held him tight. 

"Who do you belong to, babydoll?" Bucky whispered in his ear as he hooked a finger into the buckle of the belt and tugged on Steve's wrists.

"You," Steve whispered. "All yours."

"Gonna fuck you good and hard," Bucky promised him. "And then I'm gonna really hurt you."

Steve shivered and nodded. "Please, Bucky. Yours. Please."

"Up," Bucky said, getting to his feet and tugging Steve up by the buckle on the belt. Bucky led him the few steps to the bed. He put his hand on Steve's hip as Steve climbed up, digging his fingers in a little to make Steve whimper. 

Bucky positioned Steve exactly where he wanted him, kneeling on the bed and facing toward the foot-end. When he let go Steve stretched his hands out where they belonged, reaching after Bucky.

Bucky crouched on the floor at the end of the bed and reached underneath. He came up with the length of rope that was already tied to the bedframe, tucked away out of sight when they weren't playing. Steve would pull it out sometimes when he'd been without it for too long, holding on and remembering, but there was no need for that now. Bucky was here, threading the rope through the buckle of his belt in a quick, practiced motion, knotting it at just the right length so Steve's hands were held at the edge of the mattress. 

Only when Steve was bound, posed on his knees and elbows where Bucky wanted him, did Bucky finally strip. He stood there at the foot of the bed to do it, letting Steve see what he wasn't allowed to touch. Steve's cock throbbed as he stared. He'd never get enough of looking at Bucky like this, all strong and perfect.

Bucky didn't have the bulging, obvious muscles of a dockworker, but Steve could see the lines of strength in his shoulders and arms, the firmness of his chest and belly, the thick columns of his thighs. There weren't any sharp edges to Bucky, though--he looked just as well-fed and sturdy as he was, and his skin had a golden cast, contrasting with Steve's own milk-paleness. 

Right at eye level there was Bucky's cock, standing up hard, the head just glistening with pre-come or the last of Steve's spit. Bucky stepped in and Steve's mouth opened automatically, but Bucky didn't close the distance right away. Steve closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open wider, breathing in the smell of him, knowing that he was Bucky's to use any way he wanted to--and then Bucky's hand was on his head and Bucky's cock was shoving between his lips. Steve let out a little moan before his breath was choked off altogether.

"That's right, sweetheart," Bucky murmured, pushing all the way in, the head of his cock in Steve's throat, stuffing him full. Bucky stayed buried deep, grinding in against him when he couldn't push any further.

"Get me all wet before I fuck you, baby," Bucky murmured. "It's up to you how much this is gonna hurt, you know that, don't you?"

Steve sucked obediently, conscious of the pain in his ass, knowing it was about to be worse when Bucky shoved into him, broke him open again and filled him. His cock ached, needing it, needing this thick hammering weight inside him, the pain that would reach all the way inside and crack him wide. 

Bucky eased his cock out only to push back in again as soon as Steve pulled in a short breath. Steve missed the timing and choked, gagging a little around the thick intrusion of Bucky's cock. Bucky let it go on for a few seconds that felt like forever--there was nothing but Bucky's cock and the helpless spasming of his throat and the pounding of blood in his ears--and then he pulled out again, letting Steve cough. Strings of spit trailed from the head of Bucky's cock to Steve's lips, and the whole length was shiny-wet.

Bucky rubbed the flat of his hand over Steve's throat, wiped his mouth and smoothed the rest of Steve's spit onto his cock.

"That enough, babydoll? You ready for me?"

"Please," Steve gasped. "Bucky, please, please, I need you."

"You always do, doll," Bucky said, tilting his chin up so Steve had to meet his eyes while Bucky looked down at him sternly. "Doesn't mean you're always ready."

He was, though. He could feel that drifting in his head, and the pain was enough to take him out of himself. His body wouldn't resist Bucky enough for Bucky to really hurt him.

"'M ready," Steve insisted. "Please, Bucky, please."

The head of Bucky's cock tapped his lips. "One more kiss, babydoll."

Steve obeyed, summoning up all the spit in his mouth to get the head of Bucky's cock good and wet. He could barely taste Bucky's cock through the coating of saliva covering it, and Bucky took it away before long, going around to get on the bed behind him. 

The head of his cock pressed hot and wet and big against Steve's hole, and Steve whimpered as the hurt of it woke up just at the touch, the ache becoming fire again. He let his head hang and blew out a breath, relaxing when Bucky's hands caught his hips and held him steady. 

Bucky fucked into him in one hard thrust and Steve screamed, pain and satisfaction all at once. Every bruised place on his ass was lit up again, and his whole, already abused, was forced wide. Bucky hauled him back by the hips, staying buried inside him, until Steve's arms were stretched out against their bonds.

When Steve couldn't move an inch further to follow him, Bucky pulled out, leaving just the head of his cock inside. Steve breathed in rough, desperate gasps as the first shock of pain tailed off, letting him expect more. Just when he couldn’t bear the waiting anymore Bucky slammed back into him, shaking his whole body and forcing another cry from his mouth. 

He went under the surface again as Bucky settled into a rhythm, letting his body be used, letting the pain wash over him in drowning waves. Every few thrusts he'd be pushed up far enough to take the pressure off his wrists, and then Bucky would tug him back, keeping him just where Bucky wanted him.

Then Bucky's hand closed on his cock at the same time Bucky adjusted the angle of his hips, and a shocking rush of pleasure whited out the pain. Steve's body went taut again, chasing that feeling, and Bucky laughed low and kept jerking him off. He fucked Steve all out of rhythm now, some strokes that were nothing but pleasure, others just breathtaking pain. Bucky kept him on edge, kept him wanting more, and never let him fall under the spell of any of it. 

"Please, I--please, Bucky," Steve gasped. He couldn't bear it. He needed the purity of the hurt or the completion of the pleasure, to get lost or just get off. "I need, I need--"

Bucky squeezed hard on his dick as he rubbed against that spot inside that made Steve see stars. He could feel the pleasure rising inside him like stormy water behind a dam, pent up but wild. His tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. 

If he said _now_ , if he demanded it, Bucky would let him come, and wouldn't punish him for it. He did it sometimes. He could do it if he wanted to, make Bucky give him that release, push them along into the things that would come after.

But if he didn't say it then Bucky would keep him teetering here on this dizzy crest of pain and pleasure, keep him desperate and needy. If he didn't say it, he was still giving himself up completely to Bucky, still owned and bound and used. He was still getting what he really needed.

He let his breath out in a high wordless whine, and Bucky's hand loosened, stroking around the head of his cock while he reached up with the other hand to close his fingers on one of Steve's nipples, pinching it hard. The shock of new pain made him tighten up on Bucky's cock and left him feeling impossibly stretched, unbearably full. His whine turned to a wail.

"You're almost there, baby." Bucky's breathing was loud in his ear, and Bucky's fingers had gentled, toying with his nipple, washing pleasure over the pain. He was fucking Steve at just the right angle, stroking him with just the right grip. All the pain still echoed through him, and every slap of Bucky's hips against his was a new wave of hurt from his fresh bruises. Steve tugged against the bonds on his wrists and sobbed.

"Almost there," Bucky repeated, his lips brushing the back of Steve's shoulder, and he knew what was coming, trembling with anticipation as the pleasure mounted. 

"You're gonna come for me, sweetheart, aren't you?" Bucky said, and his teeth were testing lightly against Steve's skin now. "You're gonna show me how much you love this."

Steve nodded hard, trying to gather the focus to speak as he was pushed closer and closer to the edge. "I--I love--please, I--"

Bucky bit down, and the pleasure broke over that dart of pain. Steve let out a thin, helpless cry as his whole body seized up with orgasm, his cock shooting while his ass clamped down tight on Bucky's cock. 

Bucky was driving harder and harder into him even before he finished coming. He was oversensitive, still tightening in helpless waves on Bucky's cock. His orgasm stretched, twisting until he couldn't tell whether it was pleasure or pain.

He heard Bucky's breath hitch, though, heard the little gasp Bucky always let out when he was coming, like even now it surprised him how good it felt. Steve kept still under him, letting Bucky spill inside him as he caught his breath.

Bucky rested heavily on top of him for a moment, pressing him down into the bed. For a moment Steve felt hollowed out and content. It could be enough, if this was all Bucky wanted or had time for tonight. He wouldn't complain. 

But when Bucky moved Steve couldn't hold back a whine, and Bucky chuckled, low and dark. Steve felt the heat kindle in him again instantly, knowing just from that sound that Bucky wasn't finished with him.

"All right, baby," Bucky murmured. He held on to Steve's hips, keeping them joined together as Bucky straightened up. When Bucky pulled his cock out he went slowly, and he put one hand down between them. 

"Are you," Steve mumbled, not quite able to ask the question, even though he knew the answer. Bucky had done this enough times now that he knew, but it was still new and filthy every time, making him feel squirmy and hot all over again.

"Am I skimming all your spit and juice and my come off my cock as I pull it out of you?" Bucky asked. "Course I am, baby. I don't want my dick all filthy while I'm playing with you. It's dripping down off my fingers, you feel that?"

"Oh." There it was, sliding down onto his balls, warm and slow-moving. "Yeah, I--I feel it."

"That's for you," Bucky murmured, as the head of his cock slipped slowly free of Steve's ass. Bucky's fingers dipped back into him, and Steve knew he was pushing come and spit back into his hole. "You keep that, I gave that to you. Clench up, baby, hold it for me."

Steve did his best, trying to make his sore, stretched hole stay shut now that Bucky was done fucking him. Bucky kept pushing his mess back inside, wiping it off his balls and ass and pushing his fingers again and again into Steve's hole while Steve tried to make himself close up.

Bucky slapped him sharply on the ass, making Steve tense up tighter as well as announcing that he was finished, and Steve whimpered. 

Bucky got up off the bed, leaving Steve bound and stretched out on knees and elbows while he walked over to the little sink behind the door. Steve rested his cheek on the bed and watched Bucky's ass, watched him fill the glass Steve used when he brushed his teeth. 

Steve waited, as always, for Bucky to stop and drink down the whole thing himself. As always, Bucky came right back to the bed with the full glass.

Steve closed his eyes to make Bucky run a hand through his hair, gently first and then tugging sharply on it.

"You had enough, Stevie?"

Steve shook his head, pulling his own hair against Bucky's implacable grip. He moved when Bucky gave another tug, scrambling up onto his knees at the end of the bed, as upright as he could get with his wrists still bound. Bucky held the water glass to his lips, tilting it just enough to let him drink in small sips.

Bucky's other hand moved over his back--probing at the bite on his shoulder, letting Steve feel that it was going to bruise but wasn't bleeding. Bucky's hand smoothed down his back--so much skin still unmarked, so many possibilities left--before he reached the hot bruised skin of Steve's ass. He only touched with his fingertips, not scratching, not even pressing down hard. He was just assessing the progress, letting Steve feel every place he'd been hit so far.

Bucky tilted the cup away from his lips and Steve said promptly, "Warm red."

"Good," Bucky murmured, rubbing his fingers over Steve's hole, still wet and sore and swollen, and then down to cup his balls before moving to test the marks on the backs of his thighs. "Nice and warmed up, aren't you?"

Steve nodded. "I'm good."

Bucky tipped the glass deeper, letting Steve have a couple of bigger gulps of water before he took it away and drank off the last inch himself. He set the glass down by the wrapped package and then crouched to gather up his clothes and hang them over the chair. 

He pulled the pilfered fork out of the pocket of his jacket as he did, and twirled it thoughtfully between his fingers as he stepped up in front of Steve again. Steve looked up at him, training his gaze on Bucky's face despite the tempting distraction of flashing metal in Bucky's grip. 

"Might need to scratch you up tonight," Bucky said, running his knuckles gently along the line of Steve's jaw. "You want anything special, doll?"

Steve bit down hard on his lip--Bucky's eyes darted down to it and then met his again. Bucky raised his eyebrows slightly, but Steve shook his head. It wasn't his lip he was asking for. Not yet, or not mainly. 

"My knuckles?" Steve asked, his voice coming out small. He wanted it, needed it--would need the marks of it more after than he needed the pain of it now, but he wanted both more than he could say. It would be so much easier if Bucky would give him that badge to show, when he was limping tomorrow, and for now--nothing else hurt like that.

Bucky smiled, his eyes lighting up as if he was particularly pleased that Steve had asked for that. Bucky never especially liked messing up his knuckles for him, because he got worried about doing some kind of damage to Steve's hands. He did it when Steve asked, but he wasn't usually excited about it.

That meant Bucky had a plan. That meant Steve was going to like _this_ part, the hurting part.

"All right, babydoll," Bucky said. "I'll do your hands for you. You just remember to tell 'em they oughta see the other guy, huh?"

Steve nodded back, too excited to speak now that he knew Bucky had been thinking about this, had wanted him to ask for it. Bucky shook his head and leaned in for a kiss, biting down hard on Steve's lip where he'd bitten it himself. Steve shivered, his breath catching, but he didn't try to pull away or push for more, just let Bucky kiss him however he wanted to. 

"All right," Bucky repeated, and he walked over to the table, to the smaller of the wrapped parcels sitting on the table. Steve's hands clenched and unclenched helplessly as he watched Bucky unwrap the box and open it, and then Bucky turned to face him holding a brick.

Steve's vision went bright, his heart racing as his mouth fell open. 

It wasn't an entire brick, just the end of one. It was, in fact, just the right size for Bucky to hold in his hand like a bar of soap. For a half second Steve wondered if he was seeing things, and Bucky was just holding a block of carbolic soap, but he walked over and held it in front of Steve's face, letting him look. The squared-off end rested against Bucky's palm, and what he offered to Steve was the rough, broken surface. 

Steve leaned forward enough to touch his lips to it, feeling the hard unevenness of it, breathing in the unyielding rocky smell. It was dark red; blood wouldn't even show on it.

Steve looked up at Bucky, and Bucky grinned. "You're too excited for this to even worry about me busting your fingers, aren't you."

Steve smiled back and gave a quick, jerky nod. 

"Head down, then, baby. Eyes on your knuckles."

Steve obeyed, his hair falling forward as he looked down at his hands. Bucky carefully balanced the brick on the back of his head; Steve could feel his hand hovering close for a few seconds before he took it away, trusting Steve to hold perfectly steady to keep it there.

Bucky took hold of Steve's hands, bound together palm-to-palm. He turned them so that Steve's left hand was on top, folding his right hand safely beneath. He ran his thumbs over Steve's knuckles, pressing on the knobs of bone and between them. Steve shuddered with anticipation. The brick balanced on his head rocked ominously, and he forced himself to be still. 

Bucky just kept drawing it out, pressing his hands down into the mattress, then slapping the flat of his hand down on Steve's knuckles. He glanced up to meet Steve's eyes, and the eagerness in Bucky's made Steve want to squirm and want to beg. Bucky wanted so much to do this to him, and he wanted so badly for Bucky to do it. 

Steve couldn't nod, but he managed to say, "Please, Buck."

Bucky's smile widened, and he reached up to take the brick away at the same time he darted in for another kiss, this one quick. "Course, Stevie. Deep breath."

Steve nodded, now that he could, taking in a deep breath. He choked on it halfway through when Bucky brought the brick down hard, without warning, slamming it into the knuckles of his left hand. 

The pain was a lightning strike up his arm. For a white-hot instant he was sure Bucky had broken every bone in his hand. He came back to himself panting desperately, wide eyes locked on the brick Bucky was still pressing down onto his knuckles. 

"Baby, look at me."

Steve obeyed, raising his gaze to Bucky's eyes, which were dark and intent on him. The brick pressed down harder, keeping the pain of impact blazing. Bucky was twisting it a little from side to side, and Steve whined. He could feel the skin of his knuckles tearing under the slow grinding pressure.

"Enough?" 

Steve nodded without even thinking. The pain of the first impact was still radiating through his hand, down to the throbbing tips of his fingers and up his arm. The sharper pain of broken skin was rising to a burn.

Bucky took the brick away, setting it down on the floor out of sight. He held Steve's left hand in both of his. Steve could see the livid red where he was going to have bruises, the thin skin already puffing up. His knuckles were a mess of small cuts. Blood welled up from them as he watched.

"Scream if it hurts." Bucky flexed Steve's fingers, stretching them out straight and even bending them back slightly. 

Steve kept his teeth together, breathing in helpless whimpers, but he didn't scream. It wasn't that kind of hurt; the worst shock of it was passing off, and he could tell that none of the bones were really broken. 

Bucky folded his fingers back down around his unmarked right hand, and he bowed his head over Steve's hand. He kissed the hot red skin that was going to be bruised, and then bestowed a slow, filthy kiss on each knuckle, worrying the little cuts with his lips and teeth and tongue. 

Steve was shaking all over now, helplessly taken up by this. They were such small wounds. There was hardly any blood, really. But the way Bucky was licking and kissing at his damaged hand was lighting up every inch of his body with pain and the pleasure that pain twisted into when they did this right. He could feel his cock stirring again.

Bucky picked his head up, and his mouth was smeared with Steve's blood, his lips and teeth red with it. Steve's eyes widened, his cock throbbed, and he leaned in for a kiss even before Bucky grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him into it. His mouth filled with the hot copper taste of his own blood as Bucky's tongue shoved into his mouth. 

Steve sucked at Bucky's tongue eagerly. Bucky made an encouraging noise, tightening his grip on Steve's nape, so Steve kept going, licking Bucky's mouth all over, cleaning up his own blood. Bucky let him back off a little and Steve mouthed the smears of blood from Bucky's lips. 

Bucky pulled back and looked at him for a few seconds, and then he got up and walked away. Steve whined at the abandonment, but Bucky only went as far as the drawer where Steve kept a few little objects, mostly innocuous until Bucky decided to use them. Bucky pulled out a little compact mirror and brought it over.

"Look at yourself, baby. Look what I've done to you."

Steve stared at himself. His mouth was smeared with blood, his lips red and swollen and wet. His eyes were wide and nearly black, just a rim of blue showing. His eyelashes were spiky-wet, his hair clumped with sweat and spit and whatever else Bucky had rubbed into it. 

He raised his gaze from his own dazed eyes in the mirror to Bucky's. "Please."

Bucky grinned. "More, huh? Always, babydoll."

Bucky stopped to inspect Steve's hand. Blood was beading up along a couple of the worst scratches on his knuckles, and the bruises were darkening. It throbbed and stung, almost drowning out the raw, used ache of his ass and the heat of his bruises from being spanked. 

"Lie down," Bucky directed, his hand still around Steve's. He pressed a thumb down at the edge of the bruising as Steve laid himself flat on his belly, and Steve whimpered. 

"Now roll over," Bucky said, and Steve felt a fresh rush of anticipation. His front was unmarked, so far. Bucky wouldn't hit him hard on the belly or chest--maybe a punch or two, if he begged specially for it, but no more. That didn't mean Bucky couldn't find ways to hurt him, though. 

Steve twisted over onto his back, and Bucky's hand stayed on his hands, guiding them around so that he settled again with his left hand still up, so the blood wouldn't drip too much from his knuckles.

Steve couldn't see his hands like this. He had his arms stretched out above him, his knees bent and feet flat on the bed, thighs spread wide to make room for Bucky between them. Bucky moved around behind him where Steve couldn't see, and Steve could hear him picking things up and putting things down. He lay still, staring at the ceiling and wondering what Bucky would do to him next. His cock was still soft, but thickening where it rested between his wide-open thighs. Bucky might or might not let him come again. The hurt of being not-allowed was almost more intoxicating than coming, so Steve would get something good either way. 

When Bucky knelt between Steve's thighs, he was holding a handful of stuff. Steve identified the stolen fork at a glance, plus a paintbrush and the ruler Bucky usually used on his knuckles. Then Bucky's other hand slapped down sharply on his chest, right on his nipple, and Steve arched and whined. He shifted his gaze to where it belonged, on Bucky's face. 

"Good," Bucky said, pinching the nipple he'd just slapped, giving it a slow, hard twist between his fingers. Steve tilted his head back as his breath got fast, but he didn't move otherwise. The pain shot through him, connecting straight to his balls and making his head light and swimmy. "Good boy."

Bucky let go only to slap him again in the same spot, and Steve moaned.

"Tell me how it feels, baby," Bucky said, and then raked his fingernails down the center of Steve's chest, adding a long stinging burn to the mix of pain Steve felt. 

"It's, it's--" Bucky's left hand curled around his cock, squeezing hard while Bucky laid down a flurry of stinging slaps over Steve's chest.

In the midst of it Steve managed to gasp out, "Hurts so--so perfect--all red and yellow and hot and--and--"

Bucky let go of Steve's cock and reached over to pick up the fork. He pressed the tines down flat, just at the edge of the crinkled brown skin around one nipple, and Steve lost the thread and whined. He waited, quivering with the effort of holding still for what Bucky might do. He could do anything, and it would hurt so gloriously, adding another element to the dizzying collage of pain already spreading across his body. 

"I could eat you right up," Bucky murmured, turning the folk to use the points, pinning down Steve's nipple with two of them and twisting the flesh cruelly. Steve gasped, the pain going white hot as it mixed with the fear--exalted terror and obscene hope--that Bucky would really hurt him this time, really do some damage. 

He lifted the fork away instead, dragging the points hard against Steve's chest, where a thin layer of muscle padded his ribs. He left fiery red lines as he went. 

"I could carve you to pieces and you'd thank me for it," Bucky murmured. 

Steve could hear the noises he was making. Not words. They were far away, while Bucky's voice still came in clear. 

Bucky leaned down and bit hard on the nipple he'd been playing with, picking his head up so that Steve could see his flesh stretching, pulled by Bucky's mouth. He arched helplessly after it. Bucky could really bite down, make him bleed, and he was so lost he wouldn't protest now. He could only make little "ah, ah, oh," noises. 

He blinked rapidly to keep his vision clear, sobbing a little as Bucky let go of his nipple only to bite down again lower, on the soft concave stretch of his belly, where his ribs didn't protect him. Bucky's other hand was clawing at his flesh, his nails leaving welts on Steve's skin. Steve cried out helplessly at every touch, the pain tangling together as Bucky hurt him every which way, leaving trails of fire everywhere.

He became aware, after a while, that Bucky had stopped hurting him. Bucky leaned over him, running his fingertips over all the welts and bite marks on his chest, too lightly to wake up more pain. Steve was still panting, his body soaked with sweat, tears running from his eyes freely. 

"Answer me, baby," Bucky said, and Steve had the feeling he'd been asking for a while, waiting for Steve to come back to him.

"Yellow," Steve said. "White. Mostly white."

Bucky nodded. He lowered his hand to trail his fingers over Steve's cock, hard again and aching. Bucky was hard, too, Steve could see. "You want to go back there?" 

Steve nodded. "Please, just--just a little longer, Buck, please."

Bucky dropped his fingers between Steve's legs and pressed against his hole. The fresh spike of pain from it made Steve cry out at the same time he arched into it, a rush of tears falling from his eyes. 

"Could just fuck you again," Bucky said thoughtfully. "Or I could hurt you proper some more."

Getting fucked would be good, would be so much _more_ the second time, but Steve was greedy to feel more. He wanted to feel everything Bucky could give him like this. Fucking wasn't that special. 

"Hurt me," Steve pleaded, his voice hitching on a sob. "Tell me you--tell me--"

"Oh, babydoll," Bucky murmured. He leaned in, his cock bobbing heavily against his belly. He planted both hands on the burning mess of Steve's chest, pressing down just enough to make Steve struggle for breath as well as setting every scratch and bite and bruise on fire.

"You know how much I love to see you hurt," Bucky murmured, his lips just brushing over Steve's mouth. Steve trembled, struggling to stay where he could listen to the words and not just fall under the torrent of the pain again. 

"And you're so perfect for me, aren't you? Always wanting more and more and more. And I've been waiting so long to see you like this again, to use my sweet little babydoll however I want to. I dreamed up so many things I could do to you, because you always need it, and just from me, only from me. You're not like this for anyone else, you never could be. You're all mine, and I hated leaving you alone so long. I've been getting off two or three times a day just thinking of it. I wanted this even more than you did, sweetheart, and I know you've been dying for it. I ain't gonna quit early on you."

"Stripes," Steve managed to say against Bucky's mouth. "Please--"

He couldn't get another word out through Bucky's rough, smothering kiss. When Bucky pulled back he immediately slapped Steve hard, right in the mouth, once and then again on the exact same spot. The second time Steve felt his lip split the way Bucky meant it to. He whimpered and sucked at that little sliver of pain, tasting his own blood again.

"God, baby, I can't get enough of you," Bucky murmured, kissing him one more time, working his tongue against the split in his lip--but then he moved away, leaving Steve stretched on the bed alone, writhing for more. He couldn't see Bucky, but he could hear him moving around.

Steve knew exactly when he fetched the cane from its hiding place. He could hear where Bucky was, and the rustling of clothes being pushed aside, even before Bucky slashed the cane through the air. Steve shivered at the sound, his cock getting harder in anticipation of that bright, sharp, transporting pain.

He didn't hear another sound until the wicked swish of the cane cut through the air right above his head. His eyes flashed open just as Bucky brought the cane to a harmless stop, the middle of its length an inch above Steve's face while the tip smacked down against the mattress without touching him.

"Keep those eyes open, babydoll." 

Steve looked up from the cane to Bucky standing over him. 

"Turn over, you know how I want you." Bucky lifted the cane away, making an illustrative circle with the tip. Steve obeyed, trying not to move his hands too much as he moved. Once he was facedown with his knees at the width Bucky liked, ass tilted high and back arched, he found that the little cuts on his knuckles were stopped up with dark half-dried blood.

He worried at his lip with his teeth, getting another copper-salt taste of blood. The lip was swelling up; he'd probably have at least a little bruising around his mouth to show for it, too.

The cane whistled down again, this time landing on the thick layer of leather wrapping his wrists. Steve barely felt the impact. It was a firm reminder to pay attention, though, instead of getting lost in everything Bucky had already done to him.

Bucky wasn't finished with him yet. 

Steve raised his eyes to meet Bucky's, and was rewarded with the cane tapping gently against his lips. The smell of linseed oil rose up to his nose. Steve moaned reflexively at the promise of it.

Bucky smiled. "Give it a nice kiss, sweetheart, since it's going to make you feel so good."

Steve kept his eyes on Bucky while he worked his lips against the cane, tilting his head to lick along its length. Bucky liked it when he got the cane wet; it would sting worse that way even on the lighter strokes.

"Good," Bucky said finally, lifting the cane away, and he shifted down the bed to stand a little behind Steve's hip. He didn't swing yet, bringing his hand down gently on Steve's ass instead. He prodded at the forming bruises.

"You're already marked up pretty well, baby," Bucky observed, pressing to make him feel it. "Gonna have to hit you hard to make any impression at all on you."

"Please," Steve breathed, tilting his ass higher. His cock was pressed hard against his belly, waiting for it. 

"Greedy little thing," Bucky said fondly, pressing his dry fingers against Steve's hole, then giving it a little slap. 

Steve jumped, the ache going suddenly sharp. 

"All right," Bucky said. "Since you're such a good boy, I'll give you what you want until my arm gets tired."

Steve pressed his cheek against his arm and moaned out another, "Please, Bucky."

 _Until my arm gets tired_ was a very different promise from _ten strokes_ or _twenty_ or _until you're good and pink all over_. If he didn't beg for mercy before Bucky started, Bucky wouldn't listen if Steve told him to stop once the caning began. But it had been so long, and they both wanted to push this as far as they could, so Steve just repeated, "Please, please, I'll be good."

"You always are, baby," Bucky said, still sounding fond, and the cane snapped down almost gently just below Steve's shoulder blades.

It was just a sting, a thin line of brief fire that wouldn't leave a mark. It was more of a promise than a real blow. The next was similar, a few inches higher, and then Bucky repeated the first blow, making Steve gasp at the doubled pain of a fresh snap on the same spot before Bucky laid another blow lower, and another below that. 

Steve's hands flexed in and out of fists and he couldn't help tensing up, anxious for the real pain. Bucky liked to warm him up this way sometimes, but--

He barely heard the whistle before the cane came down hard on his ass. Everything whited out as pain compounded on pain, fire rushing through him and taking him entirely out of himself. When he was aware again he was sobbing, biting down hard on his lip to try to contain the sounds he was making. He'd already drawn blood on the inside of his lip, and he managed to unclench his teeth to make words before the next blow fell.

"Bucky, Bucky, I need--"

The cane slipped under his chin, gently pressing on his jaw to make him turn his head. He sobbed harder but obeyed, turning his face toward Bucky. 

Bucky watched him cry for a moment, his thumb dragging Steve's eyelid up when he tried to squeeze them shut to escape Bucky's eager, fascinated gaze. 

"Please," Steve sobbed, struggling to keep his eyes on Bucky now that the dam had burst and he couldn't resist the pain at all anymore. "Please, Bucky, I need to--bite--" 

"You sure do, babydoll," Bucky murmured. He rested the cane exactly on top of the one stripe he'd laid across Steve's ass, pressing it down enough to make Steve scream a little through his sobs. Bucky's other hand cradled his jaw, his thumb drawing Steve's lip down to see how much it was bleeding. Steve sniffled and nearly choked on a heaving, wet breath, but he didn't try to pull away from Bucky's hand or the cane. 

Bucky shook his head slightly. "Should've said something before you got your mouth bleeding like this, babydoll. You're only fit to have a sock in your mouth now."

Steve sobbed harder--Bucky's sock would be itchy against his lips, rank with sweat--but he opened his mouth wide, begging for it with every ragged breath. He needed something to bite down on, something to muffle the sounds tearing out of his throat. 

Bucky picked up one of his socks from the floor and blotted Steve's bleeding lip with it, pressing it against his nose and open mouth at the same time. Steve wailed louder but kept his mouth open. If this was what Bucky gave him, he could only take it. He still had his eyes open, fixed on Bucky's face through the blur of constant tears.

He saw the second when Bucky decided to relent. Bucky still held the sock against his mouth and nose, making him inhale the stink of it, rubbing the scratchy wool against Steve's open mouth and raw lip. Steve kept watching him.

When Bucky had made his point, he took the sock away. Steve let out a shaky relieved sob, sniffing deeply for the second his nose was uncovered. Bucky dropped the sock on the floor and picked up something else but didn't raise it high enough for Steve to see.

"You've been awfully good, baby," Bucky said. "And you didn't beg me not to use a sock, that shows a real good spirit. I'm gonna keep at this a little while, so I want you to have something nice to bite on, even if it means I gotta wash it out here."

Steve's breathing hitched involuntarily, and he opened his mouth so wide his tongue stuck out. Bucky pressed down on the cane, and Steve felt the deeper sting of split skin breaking further. His sobs took on an extra shudder, but he still kept his mouth open and his eyes on Bucky.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Bucky murmured, raising the prize into sight--Bucky's drawers. They would carry the smell of Bucky's crotch, the smell of sex from his cock and balls being trapped there until Bucky finally stripped. 

Bucky pushed the soft cloth between Steve's lips, and Steve's mouth watered helplessly at the taste. What wouldn't fit into Steve's mouth pushed up under his nose and against his cheek, and Steve could finally clench his teeth against the pain, padded by the cloth. His tongue worked against the cloth, tasting a damp spot Bucky's cock had left. 

He hauled in a breath through his nose while Bucky watched, and Bucky nodded firmly. "You hang on to those, baby."

Steve nodded back and took another shaky breath before sobbing out through the makeshift gag. Bucky nodded again, satisfied that he could hear enough, and then he stood up and lifted the cane away from Steve's ass.

He used his hand to adjust Steve's position, gentle touches on his thighs and hips, and then there was another burst of white fire. Steve was vaguely aware of screaming through the cloth filling his mouth, but he soon settled down to sobbing again, gripping tight with his teeth. His mouth full of the taste of Bucky's arousal, reminding him with every breath he took how much Bucky loved this. 

Steve was too far gone to think about how much he loved it himself; his cock had become a distant ache, lost in the exaltation of pain.

For a while he wasn't aware of anything except the hurting, the way it ebbed and flowed over him. Sometimes he drowned in the white heat of it, and sometimes he came close enough to the surface to be aware of himself wailing while Bucky's fingers traced over the stripes he'd laid down so far. It went on and on, and it wouldn't have mattered whether he knew in advance how many stripes Bucky was going to give him. He couldn't keep track of the blows. Nothing existed but the present instant, and each instant consumed him entirely.

He became aware again when the cloth was jerked out of his mouth, and he took a huge breath in, filling his lungs before he let out another sob. He was too woozy to hold his head up, and the pain was all indistinguishable fire from his shoulders to his thighs.

The cane was balanced across his elbows, and Steve ducked his head over it, kissing it again while Bucky's weight settled on the bed behind him.

"Are you all mine, babydoll?" 

"All yours," Steve managed, not trying to stifle his sobs at all. "All--all yours."

He felt a touch on his ass, crossing the stripes on one cheek; it took him a second to recognize Bucky's cock rubbing against him. He sobbed louder at the pain of it, at the knowledge that Bucky was getting off on the place that hurt the most. Where Bucky had hurt him the most. 

"Every inch of you?" Bucky ground in harder, and Steve keened helplessly before he could answer.

"Every--inch," he agreed, and Bucky rocked against him, pushing him right to the edge of going away again. But he wanted to stay this time, wanted to feel how much Bucky loved this, how all his pain became pleasure for both of them.

"That's right, sweetheart," Bucky murmured, resting his hand flat on the cheek he wasn't grinding against. He played his fingers over the stripes like piano keys, and Steve whimpered and arched into it, feeling the heavy heat of Bucky's cock pushing against him.

"Fuck, that's so pretty. You're so good for me," Bucky whispered, his cock rubbing faster against Steve's ass. "Ah, fuck, you're--you're bleeding a little, it's making my cock nice and wet, baby, do you feel that?"

Steve nodded; it took a few more thrusts before he managed to say, "I do, I feel it."

"Good boy, that's right," Bucky moaned. "Every single way I can hurt you, you just--"

Bucky's words trailed off into a long sigh, and Steve felt him pull back as he came. He felt the fresh wetness coming down on top of his stripes, Bucky's jizz marking his ass where Bucky had already marked him in every other way. 

"That's right," Bucky murmured, and he laid both hands on Steve's ass, rubbing his come into the fresh stripes, stoking the pain higher again. Steve let the pain take him out of himself again, falling deeper than ever into the white blankness of it.

"Where are you, Stevie?" Bucky's voice was gentle and warm, and he was rubbing at Steve's wrists. "Are you coming back yet? You still offshore somewhere?"

"Mm-hm," Steve mumbled, blinking. He was lying on his side now, and Bucky's shirt was wadded up and tucked under his cheek. He felt dazed and dreamy. Pain still radiated from his whole body, but he was blanketed with the warm contentment that came when the storm passed.

Bucky smiled. Steve felt warmer at that, and couldn't help smiling back. 

"You were beautiful, Stevie, you know that?" Bucky paused in rubbing Steve's wrists to kiss the palm of each hand. Steve's fingers twitched on reflex, his fingers curling gently against Bucky's cheek. 

"You're always beautiful, I mean." Bucky winked. "But--God, you were just what I'd been dreaming of. I hope it was half that good for you."

Steve nodded, his cheek sliding softly against Bucky's shirt. "Good."

Bucky's smile widened. "I wish you could see you when you're like this. You're lit up like Broadway."

Steve wanted to say that he didn't need to see it; he could feel it, and the only thing seeing it would be good for was drawing it. He didn't need a picture of himself like this. He couldn't work out how to put that in words, though, so he raised one of his hands. It was a little distracting to be able to move it so easily, and he got lost halfway through the motion, staring at his own fingers, flexing them. His right hand didn't hurt at all, really.

Bucky curled his hand gently around Steve's, not pushing it down--he wouldn't, now--just reminding him that it was there.

Steve remembered what he'd been doing and pressed his palm gently to Bucky's cheek. He could just feel the pleasant scratch of Bucky's five o'clock shadow coming in.

"You too," Steve muttered, and Bucky's eyebrows went up as he smiled open-mouthed, his eyes bright. Lit up. Like Broadway. Nobody else got to see Bucky like this, either. Bucky was sweet and happy and secret and wicked all at once, and only Steve knew what he looked like.

"Yeah, well, we're a pair," Bucky said, and that was surely true. 

Steve had long since given up on wondering which one of them had started all of this, which one had wanted it first and shaped the other to be just what he needed, the exact mirror of his desires. They fit each other too perfectly for it to be wholly a coincidence that they'd found each other before they even knew what any of it meant, and Steve doubted the existence of a Providence so concerned for the happiness of perverts that it would have brought them together for this purpose.

But they'd been growing into each other, like two trees wired together in one sidewalk square, since they were kids. No telling anymore what piece of this came first from which of them. They had each other, and they had this, and no one could ask for more.

"Love you so much," Steve mumbled.

"Oh, Stevie, baby, I fucking broke you," Bucky murmured. He leaned in and kissed Steve's mouth gently, hardly hurting at all. 

His hand closed on Steve's cock at the same time, and Steve exhaled in a shuddering sigh. He was still mostly hard. Bucky hadn't made him come before he went under the waves, and hadn't forbidden him to. Now here they were, in the part where Steve was drowsy, drugged with the pain, and Bucky turned sweet.

"I love you too, but I'm not gonna hurt you any more tonight," Bucky said against his lips, his hand working gently on Steve's cock. "I'll be nice to you if you let me."

"Yeah," Steve murmured. "Be nice, Bucky."

Bucky laughed, a soft gust against his mouth. "I won't even tell you what to do with your hands, how's that?"

Steve moaned a little and brought his right hand to his chest, digging his fingers in against the marks Bucky had left there. The renewed pain made him feel flushed-hot all over, his cock throbbing in Bucky's grip; he almost couldn't feel it as pain at all. 

"Be nice," Steve insisted again, letting his eyes fall shut.

Bucky obeyed, shuffling over on his knees. He put his hand behind Steve's knee, touching only unmarked skin as he encouraged Steve to shift closer to the edge of the bed while still balanced on his side.

The soft touch of Bucky's tongue on the head of his cock drew a breathy sound out of Steve. The pure pleasure of it made him feel off-balance, even lying down, and he grabbed blindly, his right hand landing on Bucky's head. He spread his fingers wide, threading them into Bucky's hair, and Bucky licked him again and again.

Steve raised his left hand to his chest, shuddering as he did. It hurt even to move his left hand, and when he tugged at his aching, abused nipples, the pain rippled sweetly through him, heightening the sensation of Bucky's mouth on him.

"Bucky, God," Steve breathed, and Bucky made an approving noise and closed his mouth on Steve's cock. He sucked softly, in no hurry, and Steve squirmed and pinched his nipple as hard as he could bear. It never hurt enough when he did it alone, but Bucky had already given him so much pain, he only had to touch to coax it to life.

Bucky's hand curled around the inside of his thigh, his thumb brushing gently over unmarked skin, and Steve dug his fingernails in. Bucky's tongue worked over his cock, his mouth sliding up and down and luring Steve toward the brink. Steve's fingers twitched against Bucky's head, but he didn't push or pull. He had to let Bucky be sweet when he made up his mind to be.

Steve raised his left hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to his barely-scabbed knuckles. He was making a rhythmic sound in time to Bucky's sucking, a close-mouthed helpless cry as the pleasure built higher and higher. It was another overwhelming sensation, swamping him entirely. He went silent as he gave into it; his mouth fell open and his breath stopped.

Bucky kept sucking him, swallowing him down until it got close to being the painful kind of too much. Bucky didn't want to hurt him now, so Steve pushed at him, weak as a kitten. Bucky let his cock slip free at once, and started nuzzling at the hair just above it, pressing little kisses to the soft pale skin of his lower belly. 

"Come here," Steve mumbled, and Bucky obediently shifted back to kneel at his head. He kissed Steve, his breath bitter and sharp with Steve's release, but when Steve tried to pull him closer he laughed and pulled back.

"You know the rules, Stevie," Bucky murmured. "I don't lie down with you until I've got you all cleaned and patched. I've got my work cut out for me, I made a mess of you."

"Just for a minute," Steve tried.

Bucky _tsk_ ed and kissed his forehead before he leaned away. He kept one hand on Steve's wrist while he rummaged under the bed for the chest of supplies. 

Steve let his eyes close. He drank from the bottle Bucky held to his lips, gulping down tepid water without lifting his head. 

"What flavor?"

Steve huffed. "You."

There was the sound of a candy being unwrapped, and then Bucky said, "All right."

Bucky's lips touched his and Steve sighed contentedly, opening his mouth for the press of Bucky's tongue. He got that, and also the intense flavor of chocolate as Bucky pushed the candy into his mouth. His mouth watered, his cheeks aching with the rush of it, and Steve moaned helplessly. 

Bucky pulled away, leaving Steve to suck on the candy. 

"All right, Stevie, gonna clean you up. Gonna be gentle as I can."

"I know," Steve murmured, letting himself fall into the drowsy daze of after the game. Everything hurt just enough, and he could drift here and let Bucky take care of him. The sharp, familiar smell of witch hazel combined with the sweet taste on his tongue to tell him the hurting was finished for sure, and Bucky's voice murmured steadily overhead. 

Steve didn't bother to listen to the words; the tone told him what he needed to know, which was that everything was just as expected. Bucky applied the witch hazel from his shoulders down, dabbing it onto welts and bites and bruises. He wiped it liberally over Steve's ass, and Steve hissed at the sting where stripes had broken the skin.

"Sorry, Stevie," Bucky murmured, without breaking the flow of words or the steady motion of his hands. 

Steve knew that Bucky was apologizing for this little sting, and not for the caning, or for grinding his cock against those stripes until he came. They'd long since made their peace with this. Bucky didn't get guilty unless he really did hurt Steve more than he meant to, and Steve didn't worry too much about what it meant that he liked being used like this. He liked Bucky; that was all he really needed to know.

"S'fine," Steve muttered, and he knew Bucky heard the emptiness of his mouth when he spoke. Bucky finished that pass with the witch hazel and then stopped to give Steve another few sips of water. He put a piece of candy on Steve's tongue with his fingers this time, so Steve sucked on them a little before he let go. 

He sucked on the chocolate while Bucky attended to his hole and the backs of his thighs, getting him clean and soothed. Steve's breath caught a few times, and Bucky rubbed gentle circles on unmarked skin while he got on with cleaning up what needed cleaning.

"You're gonna need padding in your drawers tomorrow," Bucky murmured, resting his hand lightly on Steve's hip. "I'll fix you up in the morning."

"Don't spend my days sitting at a desk, Buck," Steve reminded him, letting Bucky hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yeah, well, I don't like you hurting when I'm not around to enjoy it," Bucky muttered. "So I'll fix you up in the morning."

"Aye aye, sir," Steve said, like a properly ravished midshipman, and he giggled at the face Bucky made. 

"Keep that up," Bucky said, and he turned to tending Steve's left hand. 

It hurt, unavoidably, but Steve just kept giggling. 

"Bucky, you--you hit me with a _brick_. You hate--" he hiccupped and half choked, and Bucky let go of his hand to pick up the bottle and make him drink more water, which soothed his throat. He started laughing as soon as Bucky took the bottle away, though. 

"A _brick_."

Bucky ducked his head, but Steve could see the tops of his ears turning pink. "Well, you always want your knuckles bruised up. I figured I'd better work out a good way to do it."

Steve hissed as Bucky wrapped a bandage around his hand, putting unavoidable pressure on the bruises. The bubbly sensation in his chest was overtaken by curiosity. "And you thought you'd try a brick first?"

"I practiced," Bucky said. "Customer left a glove behind in the office, just about your size, real thin leather, and I thought... so I started practicing. Put sticks in it. Bones, when I could find some that weren't cooked already. Cooked bones break too easy."

Steve blinked. "Bucky, how long..."

"Couple months." Bucky was still staring down intently at Steve's hand. "Took a while to be sure I could do it right."

He glanced up and met Steve's eyes and Steve just stared, mouth hanging open, at the thought of Bucky _practicing_ for him, to give him what he wanted. To hurt him without harming him.

"Buck." It felt like a strange reversal tugging Bucky's chin up to make him meet his eyes. 

Bucky smiled when he did, with a hint of shyness Steve had rarely seen in the last couple of years. Steve felt sixteen years old for a second, full of butterflies and waiting in eager terror for Bucky to smack him.

"It was perfect," Steve told him. "You were perfect, Buck. I can't believe you-- _two months_?"

"Good surprise?" Bucky leaned in to kiss him without waiting for an answer. 

Steve kissed back sloppy and sweet, with his uninjured hand on Bucky's cheek. He pulled until Bucky was leaning into the bed, and then he reached out for Bucky's shoulder and tugged hard. 

"'M clean enough, come on." Steve's lips dragged against Bucky's, and Bucky gave a put-upon sigh but nodded as he kissed Steve again.

Bucky insisted on turning them around so Steve could rest his head on a pillow, and they slotted themselves together in the practiced way. Bucky's knee was tucked between Steve's, Bucky's arm draped over his waist where it wouldn't press on any bruises. Pinned like this, Steve wouldn't flop over onto his back and wake himself up.

They kissed a while longer, tender and lingering, until Bucky's hand drifted down just to the edge of Steve's ass, the last place he could touch without pressing on a bruise. 

"Worth waiting for?" Bucky was meeting Steve's eyes this time. 

Steve huffed. "I don't care what kind of nonsense you talk when we're playing, Bucky, but it doesn't matter how long you make me wait. I'm never doing anything like this with anybody else. Course you're worth waiting for."

"Same," Bucky huffed. "But--this'll keep you for a while, won't it? Won't need to go getting in fights for another week or two."

"Yeah," Steve brushed another kiss across Bucky's mouth. "Yeah. You'll hardly have to touch me to get me screaming next time."

Bucky shivered at that and shifted his hand firmly back onto unmarked skin. "I will, though."

"Course you will." Steve squirmed an inch closer, so he could feel the heat of Bucky's body all down his front. "I always want you to, and you're all, all mine."


End file.
